


toxicity

by wolfofwinterfell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bellatrix is...Bellatrix, Death Eaters, F/M, Lily's pregnant!, NSFW, PWP, Snape and Bellatrix need some more good content, Snape's not okay with it, first wizarding war, just gonna tag that a million times, private library sex, this is more pwp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:01:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29794371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfofwinterfell/pseuds/wolfofwinterfell
Summary: She is a drug he cannot get enough of and every time he says he is finished he craves the taste of her, craves that way she unlocks him in a way nobody else has.
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Severus Snape
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	toxicity

“She’s pregnant, you know.” 

Her voice is the merest of whispers in his ear, quiet enough that it lets him know her words are for his ears alone at the moment, but he isn’t sure he heard her properly. He chances a glance down the table to make sure everyone else is still focused on the Dark Lord, then inclines his head toward her. “What?”

“Your little schoolgirl crush.” Rodolphus is at the end of the table, so she inches a little bit closer so she can slip her hand over to Severus’s leg. It isn’t that she cares about her former fiance - anyone at this table will testify that she doesn’t. She cares about the man watching their leader in the same way that she would care about nearly anyone else at the table, and that is to say barely at all. He had his chance to please her and he failed, so she cast him away without another thought. But she is most definitely not supposed to be shagging Lucius and Narcissa’s protegee, so she moves with discretion. “Not far along, but Potter was over the moon.”

“Oh.” He swallows the knot of emotion that has filled his throat and stiffens as Bella’s fingers dance further up his thigh. It is hard to keep a straight face and she knows he hates when she does this at meetings, but she only does it when she’s making an attempt at an apology. Somehow, that makes it tolerable. “How do you know?”

“I was watching them on their way to Diagon Alley.” Her fingers don’t stop. “ _He_ doesn’t know yet.”

“But you’ll tell him soon?” 

“Yes. Tonight.”

The topic has changed in the meeting, requiring their participation, but he slips his arm beneath the table to still her hand. He aches for her but knows there’s nothing for it at the moment; neither of them can gain an excusal from the group. Instead, he grasps her wrist and turns her hand over, laying it flat against his leg. Carefully, he traces a figure-eight over her palm. 

Her eyes gleam. 

* * *

It takes over an hour before either of them is able to slip off, and Bellatrix manages it first. She still has to speak to the Dark Lord and then, Severus knows, she will be ruthless. She winks as she slips through the doorway, leaving him with the rest of the Death Eaters who have decided to stay after the official end of the meeting. Drinking and socializing has become more frequent among them lately. 

Another quarter hour passes and his throat is sore from answering Lucius’s questions. Fire whiskey helps. At the half hour mark, after mumbling an excuse about wanting to read, he is finally free to go. 

He finds Bella waiting for him in his flat, her robes already undone, and cannot muster the energy to be mad at her for not waiting outside. His mind is running faster than he can keep up with; he barely notices she’s pushing down his trousers and it’s not until she takes him in her mouth that he can make his thoughts pause. He knows that once she’s finished - they’re finished - and he has the opportunity to think again...he will. He won’t be able to help himself tonight. 

“Snape.” She pauses, pouting up at him. “I’m trying to make it up to you.” 

He’s not sure how to tell her that this isn’t something she can make better, so he lets out a breath and pulls her to her feet. “Then don’t spend all your time on your knees.”

* * *

Lily is four months along when he sees her next. He almost doesn’t recognize her; she has muggle clothing on and a cap pulled low over her head. But when she turns to check out the sign for the bookshop, even from his spot at the counter inside, he knows it’s her. Her face is still the same - open and friendly, even in these dark times - and he could point out her profile itself in his sleep. 

He feels a sense of dread, low in his stomach, as she starts toward the door. His shift is not over for another hour and he’s the only bookseller out on the floor while the others are at lunch. But when she comes in the door she heads straight toward the fiction section, slipping into the maze of shelves, and he can let out a relieved sigh. 

While she browses, he busies himself with arranging bookmarks, stocking bags, finding more pads of receipt paper to put next to each till, wondering all the while what he will say to her. There are few other customers, fewer chances of being able to avoid her. 

After half an hour, he’s begun to wonder if he’ll be able to luck out after all. But then, as he is adding books to the window display, he hears somebody clear their throat and he _knows_. He speaks as he sets the last book down, trying to buy time. “All set to check out?” 

“ _Oh._ ” She says it quietly. “Er -- yes, I suppose I am.” 

He forces himself to turn to face her, to look toward her but not _at_ her. He’s not sure he can handle it, not here. Not in this shop he’s made his refuge from everything else going on in his life. 

“Find everything all right?” he asks as he steps back to the counter, starts eying the stack she’s set upon it. 

“Almost everything.” Her flush shows even in her voice. “I’ll just come back later for the rest.” 

“I can look things up.” He sounds too smooth and polished, a professional front. “If we don’t have something you’re looking for, I can order it.”

“No, no need.” 

She twists the ring on her finger absentmindedly, and he gives a soft sigh as he goes back to ringing her up. He feels his hands shake slightly as he picks up each book, paying more attention to the titles she’s selected than he would for any normal customer. Most of them are classic muggle literature but she’s slipped a couple thrillers in the pile and he puts them down nearly as quickly as he picks them up. 

The last in the pile is a book of baby names and he hesitates over it the most. _‘The ultimate resource for finding the perfect name for your baby,’_ the blurb under the title reads. He resists rolling his eyes, but only just. 

“It’s a hard decision to make, you know.” Lily’s looking at him; he can practically feel her daring him to look back at her. “There’s so many names to choose from. So many possibilities.” 

“I don’t, actually.” He puts the books in their bag a little more forcefully than necessary and finally looks at her. Feels that tightness in his chest he’s sure he’ll always have when he sees her, when he thinks of what losing her friendship meant to him. For him. “I’m shocked Potter’s even letting you look at a list. Surely he’s chosen one already?”

“Severus, honestly…” She sounds exasperated and gestures toward her stomach. “Surely this isn’t what you were expecting to see, but…. Forget it. It doesn’t matter. He’s changed, though.” 

“Bellatrix told me.” He hates how much he enjoys the horrified look she tries to hide. 

She pushes her money across the counter, eager to go now. “You’ve changed too, if you’re that close to Bellatrix.” 

“You’ve no idea,” he murmurs as he slips her receipt in her bag. 

* * *

She’s sitting outside of her cottage when he apparates just outside her wards, looking for all the world as though she’s been expecting him. And perhaps she has. It’s been a few days since they’ve seen each other; she’s probably ready to pin him down by now. He can’t say he would complain, since that’s exactly what he has in mind. Why he came here. He knows he should probably handle the anger another way, perhaps something more _productive_ like working on more spells or even his potions research. But he could argue that this is better, even though he knows that it is, in some ways, so much worse. 

“What a pleasant surprise,” Bella practically purrs as he steps onto the pathway to her. “I was going to come to London tomorrow.” 

“You’re still welcome to.” He stows his wand in his robes as he moves, a move to buy himself a couple seconds. He cannot come up with anything witty to say, cannot think past all the emotions he’s been trying to tamp down for the past hour and a half. “You’re alone?”

“Of course.” She stands, eyes him and puts her finger to her mouth. “Inside or outside, do you think?” 

“I don’t care,” he practically growls. Her smirk makes him twitch. 

“Inside, then.” 

They are barely through the door when she steps back, pushes him up against the door. She doesn’t turn to face him like he wants, which shouldn’t surprise him but does; he wants their clothes off and to feel the burn of her skin against his. He grunts as she reaches behind her to pointlessly lock the door and shifts against him. “I don’t need any help getting--” 

She turns then, grins up at him wickedly as she slips her hand down and palms him through his trousers, hears the sound he chokes back. “Oh, I know. But then where would the fun be?”

“I saw her today.” He’s glad his voice only cracks a little; Bella might not notice. “At the bookshop.” 

“I thought that you might have.” She’s undoing the buttons of his shirt slowly. Tenderly. She’d heard the change, then. “Was Potter with her?”

“No,” he gasps as he feels her nip at his neck. He wants to forget about it, to get lost here. It’s not lost on him that they haven’t moved to the bedroom yet, the only room in this place he knows, and he wonders if she’s got something else in mind. “Just her.” 

“Come with me.” She grasps his hand as if he’d get lost, and he lets her, surprised. They take a corner quickly, make their way through the kitchen and down a hall before they slip into a room that, he realizes quickly, is Bella’s library. She shuts the door and eyes him like a cat with a toy and he can’t stop the shiver of anticipation that goes down his spine. 

He isn’t sure which of them initiates this time, just knows that one moment he is looking around at the shelves and the next he is against them, flipping with Bella every other kiss as they grasp and wrench at clothing. She drops her dress from her shoulders finally, steps out of it so she’s in just knickers. He swallows roughly, wants to stop the games and lose himself in her in more ways than one. 

They flip again so he’s pressed back against the shelves; he can feel the spines of a few of the books digging into his back, the pressure building as Bella leans against him as much as she can. One of her hands is occupied with slipping beneath his trousers, which he hadn’t even realized she’d undone. The other, he realizes as they break off a kiss, is holding his own wand to his throat. 

“Your wand feels almost as good in my hand as your cock,” she whispers into his ear. He feels himself twitch just as her hand finally strokes him, the fabric finally done away with, and moans against her neck. “I like them both.” 

He lets her continue for another moment before he pushes her hand away, grabs the wrist holding his wand and lowers it. “Enough.” 

Their eyes meet and they can feel the struggle between them, then, each wanting to decide where they go from here. Severus wants, almost desperately, to hand himself over to her. His anger has subdued but still simmers just below the surface, eager to break free again, and that is what makes him take his wand from Bella’s hand and stow it on a shelf. 

She arches a brow at him and he feels the corner of his mouth twitch into a half-smile. They are done with words for now. 

He leads her over to the settee he spies in the corner of the library and is surprised when she gives him a little push, gives in when he sees the gleam of her favorite knife. _When the bloody hell did she grab that?_

And he’s surprised again when she drops the knife, lets it fall to the floor with a quiet thump. She throws her legs over him to straddle him, doesn’t give him any time to think. He can’t help the groan as she settles over him, making him sit still as she takes him in. She leans forward, nips at his neck, sucks on the spot she knows he likes just behind his ear just before she nips it. 

“I want to know what it’d be like to be her,” she says then, and he’s not entirely sure he understands what she means. 

“Pregnant? But you’ve said before --” 

“No, not pregnant.” She laughs at the near panic in his voice and rolls her hips, watches how he takes in a sharp breath. She’s impressed with his restraint tonight, knows he wants nothing more than to get the release he came here for. But if he wanted a quick job of it, he would have used his own hand. “I want you to fuck me like you would fuck her.” 

He isn’t expecting that, isn’t sure he can do it. The days of imagining that happening are long behind him. But to admit that is to show her a weakness, to give her a gift she will use against him when she can. 

“Fine.” He acquiesces, understanding now why she dropped her knife; if she’s pretending to be Lily, she can’t very well use it. “But we’re moving.” 

They’re back against the bookcases then, Bella with her back against the shelves, arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He aches from supporting her but is lost in the mounting pressure of his coming orgasm, hopes with every slam into her that he’ll come, especially once he feels her tighten around him and feels her chest heave against him. He is rougher than usual, with none of the finesse she has helped him to master, a testament to exactly how rattled he is. 

And finally, _finally_ , in the midst of a nip, he is groaning into her neck. He feels her lower her legs, drop her arms from around his neck. She makes no other motions, just waits as he stands and catches his breath. After a few moments he slips from her, huffs at the stickiness between them, and is reaching for his wand when he feels Bella brush his hip with something hard. 

“Looking for something?” She’s amused with herself, casts a quick _scourgify_ to test out how well it works for her, summons her dagger. “Ah, I think it likes me too.” 

She hands his wand back to him, content, and looks back up into his face. If he didn’t know better, he would think she is searching for something. He lets her for a moment and then steps back, moves as though to examine a title. 

“You might see her again, at the bookshop.” 

“Yes.” He’s sure she’ll be back. He just isn’t sure he will be there when she does. She’ll try to make sure he isn’t. 

“Well.” Bella’s mouth twitches. “When she comes back in, just remember she’s not the one fucking you later in a room full of books.” 

“Duly noted.” 

She brushes past him, trailing her fingers along his arm as she goes by. “You’ll join me, in a bit?” 

“Of course.” He cannot say no. She is toxic, almost, and he knows that but he can hardly bear to make himself stop. She is a drug he cannot get enough of and every time he says he is finished he craves the taste of her, craves that way she unlocks him in a way nobody else has.


End file.
